Charles Causley

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“Leisurely,{{pb}}They beckon to me from the other bank.I hear them call, 'See where the stream-path is!Crossing is not as hard as you might think.'{{pb}}I had not thought that it would be like this.”

“They are waiting for me somewhere beyond Eden Rock:My father, twenty-five, in the same suitOf Genuine Irish Tweed, his terrier JackStill two years old and trembling at his feet.{{pb}}My mother, twenty-three, in a sprigged dressDrawn at the waist, ribbon in her straw hat,Has spread the stiff white cloth over the grass.Her hair, the colour of wheat, takes on the light.”

“At Morning Prayers the Master helvesFor children less fortunate than ourselves,And the loudest response in the room is when Timothy Winters roars 'Amen!'{{pb}}So come one angel, come on ten:Timothy Winters says 'AmenAmen amen amen amen.'Timothy Winters, Lord.  Amen.”

“Timothy Winters comes to schoolWith eyes as wide as a football-pool,Ears like bombs and teeth like splinters:A blitz of a boy is Timothy Winters.”

“Henry is thinking of his lute and of backgammon,  Elizabeth follows the waving song, the mystery,Proud in her red wig and green jewelled favours;  They sit in their white lawn sleeves, as cool as history.”

“O are you the boy  Who would wait on the quayWith the silver penny  And the apricot tree?”